


Writer Unblocked

by saucytuggles



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucytuggles/pseuds/saucytuggles
Summary: Little fanfic written for the MPL summer collaboration on the theme "the Notebook kiss."
Relationships: Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35





	Writer Unblocked

**WRITER UNBLOCKED**

_a_ **_Midnight Poppy Land_ ** _fanfic by Saucy Tuggles_

_Based on some pretty awesome characters totally owned by_ **_Lilydusk_ ** _._

_Midnight Poppy Land can, and should, be viewed on webtoons.com or the WEBTOON app._

_Written as part of the MPL Summer Collaboration on the theme “the Notebook kiss.”_

_Enjoy._

_…the rain fell in glittering sheets across his broad chest, his eyes boring with passionate intensity into…_

“Oh, DAMN it! His eyes can’t be BORING!”

… _they ran toward each other through the rain falling in glittering sheets, catching each other with rough delight. His lips opened like a yawning cave of sensual rapture, his teeth gleaming stalactites…_

“Shit! That’s even worse! Aaaaaagh!”

_…hopelessly they fell into the glittering sheets of rain, their ravenous lips finding each other like fingers groping in the dark…_

“Fuckity fuckity fuck!!!” Quincey flung down his notebook in disgust. Nothing was coming out right tonight. He snatched his phone and quickly texted. _Damn it, honey. I can’t get anything going here. Where the hell are you???_

He threw the phone down beside him, and put his head into his hands. He glanced at the screen, where three tell-tale dots were moving. The phone dinged. He picked it up.

_Quit calling me that. what’s wrong_

Quincey’s thumbs moved over the screen. _My story! Nothing is flowing. Come over and help me_. The ding was faster this time.

_not my problem._

Quincey stood, pacing as he texted. _I am serious! I have a deadline and this is torture! I really need inspiration!_

There was a pause, then the dots moved. Ding. _Try a girl. Now leave me the fuck alone._

Quincey tossed the phone down again. _Jesus Christ_ , he thought, running his fingers absently back through his platinum waves. _How unhelpful is that_.

He stood at the window and opened it. The night air this high in the hills was bracing and clean. He considered. _You know, it may be a useful exercise, to write outside of my comfort zone. It may open up the creative channels, like composing an etude, or a haiku. “_ But first,” he said to no one in particular, “I need to change.”

All serious authors learned about the change. When one’s creativity is stuck, the stuck energy transfers from one’s skin to one’s clothes, and that energy occasionally coalesces into tiny stuck sprites. Therefore, inspiration often shifts with fresh clothes, and sometimes with a quick walk, which helps the writer evade any lingering sprites.

Quincey was a true believer in these time tested methods. He stripped off his tainted clothes, pushed them down into his hamper and closed the lid tightly so that no stuck sprites could escape. He then donned a fresh outfit and took three quick turns around his apartment. He chose a new pen, picked his notebook off the floor, and began to write.

_The Rain Kiss_

A Short Short by Q.B. Noyouko

He stood by the small fishing boat in the storm, waiting. Horyo did not look forward to seeing her, his hands tensing and untensing on the wooden oar. All I need do is bring her across the river, to her father’s estate. Deliver her safely and be gone. I never need to see her after this day. He swallowed, the rain ripping against his face. I never shall see her after this day.

Over the roar of the wind and water, he saw them approaching before he heard them. Horyo put his head down as they approached. He stepped forward to offer his hand to help her out of the sedan chair. Her oil paper umbrella was lowered in front of her. He could not see her face.

There were no pleasantries in this weather. Once she had safely alighted, her carriers hurried back up the track, leaving her with Horyo. Her small hand was cold as he helped her through the running water into the flat bottomed boat. She shivered in her robe as she settled onto the bench in the wasen, the umbrella still obscuring her face.

He had to say something. “Hana-san,” her umbrella tipped back, and her large, light-brown eyes looked into his. She was actually here. She was sitting in this boat. “It is good to see you.” The wind snatched at his black hair, the rain penetrating his simple cotton shirt. He tried to keep his face still but his insides twisted being this close to her.

It didn’t seem real, her sitting an arm’s length from him. The years of longing folded away, leaving Horyo standing next to her as he always had. She was luminous. Indeed she was older, but the years had barely changed her from girl to woman. She held herself with dignity, but her warmth, her light, shone as brightly as ever.

“Horyo-san.” She turned her face away, into the wind. Her voice tightened. “We should cross. I need to get to my father’s house before the storm worsens.”

The boat shifted under his weight as he turned to his position at the boat’s stern. He was skillful enough to manage the boat in these conditions. He tried to focus on the changing winds and not her graceful shoulders hunched on the bench in front of him. She held the umbrella pole in both hands, pushing its center into the wind, steadying it and defending herself from the water that lashed over the boat’s low sides. As they reached midstream the winds increased and the boat rocked. The wind caught the umbrella, tearing it from Hana’s hands and throwing it across the water. She grabbed the rails of the small wasen, her knuckles white.

Horyo concentrated on guiding the boat. He used all of his strength to carry them to the landing on the other side, taking much longer than expected. When they finally touched ground, he leapt into the shallows and pushed the wasen up the shore so that she could step directly onto earth instead of into the churning water. As the boat stabilized, Horyo stepped out of the river water and stood ready to help her over the rail. She stood, shakily, her hand extended. Her face was pale.

As she stepped toward him her sandal caught on the rough boat bottom. He caught her as she fell forward, her hands grasping at the collar of his shirt. The old fabric tore, revealing the designs inked across his chest. He lifted her small form over the boat rail to stand before him. She stood for a moment, her fists tightening, then craned her neck back to see his face. The pain in her eyes was clear. “Why?” her voice rose. “Why, Horyo?” She touched his arm. “I waited for you. For years, _years_ , I waited.” Her mouth twisted with grief. “Against my father’s wishes, I waited.” Her voice tore to a ragged shout. “And you gave me _nothing_.”

He looked down at her. She stood so close but the gulf between them was immense. She spun and started up the track towards her father’s house. Her sandals slipped in the mud as she staggered up the small bank.

His mind snapped. He covered the ground between them in two strides. Spun her towards him. “ _Nothing_?” His face was rage and pain and despair. “My heart is nothing? You were my heart, you were my home. My only place in the world is this little circle on the ground, here next to you. You, _you_ took everything from me.” His voice fragmented. “You left me standing in darkness.”

Her voice was unsteady. “What are you saying? Do you love me then? We have not seen or spoken in years.” He searched for words. She looked as though she might touch his sleeve, then lowered her hand. “My life lies up this road now. I must go.”

“Hana.” She hesitated, her eyes on the muddy track. “Love is a vast word. People fill it with different things. If love is made by hours together, days of travel, working at your side, then no, how could I love you?” She raised her wide brown eyes to his. “But if love is also made from looking at a star from far away, from a memory that won’t release me, a faded paper…” His voice trailed away as he stepped closer, looming over her. “Then yes, I love you. I am a magnet on a compass. I have no choice but to love you.”

He lifted her bodily and held her to him, their faces level. The wind whipped her brown hair against his face, her neck, peeled her sodden robe from her shoulders. The raw sorrow in his eyes burned through her. “Is this how you leave me, Hana?”

At his question, the struggle on her face quieted. Something in her stilled, and she placed her small hands on both sides of his face. Hope flared in his eyes. “No." He heard certainty in her voice. In his arms, her slight frame no longer shook. "This is not how I leave you."

Her gaze held his. "Horyo, you are my heart, that never changed. Nothing will take me from you again, not fear, not titles, not riches, not death. You are mine, and I, I belong only to you.”

She kissed him then, her fingers on either side of his head, his arms holding her tight against him. And despite the storm around them, neither of them felt the chill.

*************

Quincey placed his pen down with a satisfied click. _Not my usual, but not bad_ , he thought. _I declare myself officially unstuck._ He made himself a cup of tea and picked up his phone. _Booboo I thought you were cray cray but that actually worked. <3 <3 <3 When do you want to beta read for me?_

It was some minutes before his phone dinged.

_Not now. On a job._

Quincey finished his tea without replying. Outside, the rain began to fall, in glittering sheets.


End file.
